Unexpected twist: Diogo Jota’s grandfather tells where and with whom Rute Cardoso lives

The lights at Anfield always told stories. Some of glory, some of heartbreak, and some of the quiet fight behind the noise. On a cold October night, when the crowd sang through the drizzle, Diogo Jota stood on the touchline wearing his warm-up jacket, staring at the pitch he once ruled. For a man who had seen both cheers and silence, this was not just another game — it was the start of his fight back.

Liverpool had changed. Jurgen Klopp was gone, Arne Slot had arrived with his Dutch precision, and a new Liverpool was being built on tactics and transition. The crowd was still there, the anthem still rose before every match, but something about the rhythm felt different. The team was struggling to rediscover its fire. New faces like Florian Wirtz and Alexander Isak had come in for massive fees, yet the energy was scattered. The connection between heart and hustle seemed missing.

Jota had felt it more than anyone. Months of injury, weeks of bench time, whispers in the media — *he’s finished*, *he’s lost his sharpness*, *Slot doesn’t trust him*. Every word cut deeper, not because they were cruel, but because he feared some of them might be true. He had once been Liverpool’s surprise weapon, the man who turned half-chances into goals. But now, even in training, he felt like a shadow of himself.

It started during pre-season. Slot had pulled him aside after a session at the AXA Training Centre. The sun was bright over the pitches, and the Dutchman’s tone was calm but clear. “Diogo,” he said, “I know your quality. But I need you fit, focused, and flexible. This team plays different now. You must adapt or others will play.”

The words stayed with him. Adapt or be forgotten.

While the media talked about Isak’s £130 million arrival and Florian Wirtz’s elegance in midfield, Jota worked in silence. Extra hours in the gym, endless drills on his finishing, one-on-one meetings with the physio. He didn’t post much on social media. He didn’t respond to rumours that he could be sold in January. He just trained — harder than he ever had.

At home, Rute Cardoso, his long-time partner, reminded him of who he was. “You’ve done this before, Diogo,” she said one night as they sat together watching highlights from his Wolves days. “You didn’t come from Portugal to England to be ordinary. You came here because you never give up.”

Those words hit like thunder. Jota knew his story wasn’t about flash or fame. It was about fight.

Liverpool’s season started like a dream — five wins in a row, the team smiling, Slot being hailed as the perfect successor to Klopp. But football doesn’t stay golden for long. The cracks began after the international break. Three losses in a row — Crystal Palace, Galatasaray, and Chelsea. Suddenly the questions returned. Where was the pressing? Where was the spark? And most painfully, where were the goals?

In the middle of the chaos, Slot turned to his bench and saw Jota waiting.

The game against Chelsea at Stamford Bridge was slipping away. The score was 1-1, tension boiling, and the London crowd roaring. Slot made his move. “Diogo, warm up,” he said. The forward sprinted down the sideline, his legs tight, his mind clear. When the board went up and his number appeared, he felt that pulse again — the pulse of Anfield, the pulse of belief.

He entered the game like a man possessed. Every touch carried hunger, every sprint had meaning. He didn’t score that night — Chelsea won it with a late strike from Estevão — but something had shifted. Even the pundits noticed. Daniel Sturridge, speaking after the match, said, “Jota brought energy. You can see he wants it. Liverpool missed that kind of fight since Luis Díaz left.”

Those words gave him strength. For months, Díaz’s departure to Bayern had haunted Liverpool. The Colombian had been their chaos player, the man who chased every lost ball. His sale had left a hole in the team’s rhythm. Isak had come in with goals in his boots but not Díaz’s madness. And deep down, Jota knew he could bring some of that chaos back.

At training the next day, Slot noticed something. Jota’s pressing was sharper, his movement smarter. During one tactical drill, he stole the ball from Szoboszlai, drove forward, and smashed it past Kelleher. The players cheered, and Slot smiled for the first time in days. “That’s what I want,” he said. “That’s the old Jota.”

From that moment, the comeback had begun.

But comebacks in football are never easy. Competition was fierce. Isak, Gakpo, and Chiesa all wanted the same spot. Slot rotated constantly, searching for the perfect front line. Jota knew he wouldn’t play every match, but when he did, he had to make it count.

His first real chance came in the Carabao Cup against Southampton. The crowd wasn’t full, but it was loud enough to feel alive. In the 65th minute, he received a pass from Harvey Elliott, turned sharply, and buried it into the corner. His first goal in months. The celebration wasn’t wild — just a kiss to the badge and a look to the sky. For Jota, it meant everything.

After the match, Slot pulled him aside. “That’s what belief looks like,” he said. “Keep going.”

From that night, Jota’s confidence grew. In training, he began leading by example — pressing high, tracking back, encouraging the young players. When Arne Slot talked about leadership in his press conferences, he mentioned Jota without naming him. “Some players show it quietly,” he said. “They don’t talk much, but they make the team better.” Everyone knew who he meant.

Still, the pressure from outside was relentless. Pundits argued that Liverpool’s attack lacked identity. Critics said Isak and Wirtz were struggling to connect. Others claimed Salah’s best years were behind him. Amid the noise, Jota stayed calm. He had learned from his injuries that football rewards patience.

In the next Premier League match at Anfield, Liverpool faced Aston Villa. The tension was thick; fans wanted a response. Slot surprised everyone by starting Jota on the left. The decision raised eyebrows, but within 20 minutes, he justified it. A slick move from Wirtz found him inside the box, and with one quick turn, he rifled it into the bottom corner. Anfield exploded.

That goal was more than a statistic — it was a statement. The camera caught Jota roaring to the crowd, eyes wide, fists clenched. For the first time in months, the Kop sang his name again. *Diogo Jota, running down the wing…

After the game, reporters surrounded him. “How does it feel to score again?” one asked. Jota smiled faintly. “It feels like home,” he said. “It always does.

Behind the calm tone, there was fire. That goal had reminded him and everyone else that he still belonged here.

The weeks that followed were filled with ups and downs. Liverpool beat Spurs and drew with Brighton, then suffered a tough night in the Champions League. But through it all, Jota became a symbol of resilience. Whenever the team seemed flat, he brought energy. Whenever they trailed, he chased every ball like his life depended on it.

Inside the dressing room, young players like Ben Doak and Bobby Clark started looking up to him. “Jota never complains,” Doak said in an interview. “He just works. You see him, and you want to do the same.”q

Arne Slot noticed the transformation too. The Dutchman, once distant, began to trust him again. Before a crucial game against Manchester United, Slot told him, “You are starting. Go and remind them who Diogo Jota is.”

That match would become the turning point. Under the lights of Anfield, against their greatest rivals, Jota gave everything. He pressed, tackled, created — and in the 78th minute, he scored the winner, a low strike after a perfect through-ball from Wirtz. The roar was deafening.

As he slid on his knees in front of the Kop, tears filled his eyes. Months of pain, doubt, and hard work had led to this moment. His teammates swarmed him, Salah hugged him tight, and even Slot clenched his fist on the sideline. The old Liverpool heartbeat was back.

The newspapers the next morning wrote about redemption. Jota Brings Fire Back to Anfield”Slot’s Gamble Pays Off”From Forgotten to Hero. But for Jota, it wasn’t about headlines. It was about peace.

He knew football moves fast — today’s hero can be tomorrow’s benchwarmer. But he had found his rhythm again, his connection with the crowd, his trust in himself. He was not the loudest, nor the flashiest, but he was the fighter Liverpool had missed since Díaz’s departure.

In the weeks ahead, as Liverpool pushed back into the title race, Jota kept delivering. Goals came in moments that mattered most — late equalisers, assists under pressure, defensive recoveries that drew applause. Arne Slot called him “the glue” that held the attack together.

Off the pitch, Jota became more vocal. He encouraged Isak during his goal drought, comforted Chiesa when rumours swirled about his future, and told the younger players never to take the badge for granted.

By the time winter came, Liverpool were once again alive — not perfect, but pulsing with belief. And at the heart of it all was Diogo Jota, the man who refused to fade away.

Sometimes comebacks don’t happen in one goal or one match. They happen quietly, through patience, through pain, through persistence. Jota’s story became a reminder to every fan and every player that in football, character always finds its way back to the surface.

As the crowd sang *You’ll Never Walk Alone* after another late victory, Jota looked around and smiled. The doubts, the criticism, the long lonely nights — they had all led him here. Back where he belonged. Back where his fight began.

And though he didn’t say it out loud, every beat of his heart whispered the same message: *This is my Liverpool. And I’m not done yet.